


The Wrecker and Ruler

by whereismygarden



Series: Stargate Universe Rarepairs [4]
Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Drabble Sequence, F/M, M/M, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 13:44:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3852922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whereismygarden/pseuds/whereismygarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young's affair isn't with TJ, but with Scott.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wrecker and Ruler

**Author's Note:**

> So I blame Potboy, Fragged, and Seekingidlewild in equal measure for this. It should not be taken as encouragement to not write their own stories about this pairing.
> 
> Each section is exactly 100 words.

                It started when he saw Young sitting at his desk, head bowed too far down, shoulders bent like the weight of the world rested there. Scott knocked, entered to ask him if he needed anything. Young’s face smoothed out a trace, a ghost of a smile over his handsome face, and Matt felt his chest turn cold and his belly hot.

                “If you ever need anything, sir,” he stumbled over the words. Young nodded.

                “Sure,” he said easily, in his abrupt manner, but Scott went away with a thundering heart and a secret hope burning in his mind and gut.

~

                He watched Scott walk out of his office with a pang of longing and a touch of foreboding. When Scott appeared at the door of his quarters later that week, he wasn’t even surprised, just touched to see his earnest face and hesitant stance.

                “I don’t want to presume, Colonel. I thought, there was maybe something—“ He broke off; the young man had put himself remarkably far forward.

                “Matthew,” he said, and sat down, motioning the lieutenant to do the same. He did, uneasily, leaning forward. “I don’t want you to do something simply because I’m your commanding officer.”

~

                Young’s words took a second to sink in, then Matt knew what he meant. As if he wouldn’t give Young anything he wanted, regardless of their ranks.

                “No, no sir, that’s not it at all,” he said quickly. “I don’t feel _obliged_ in, in any way.” He spoke as emphatically as possible, trying to discern the colonel’s reaction.

                “Come here,” he said, gruffly, quietly, in his way, but not as an order. Matt came forward as Young stood up, feeling his skin heat in anticipation and desire. Young wrapped his hand around the back of his neck and kissed him.

~

                Scott was taller than him, which was different. He leaned down eagerly enough, though, parted his lips to Young’s teeth and tongue, made a soft little ‘mmm’ noise when Young filled his mouth with his tongue. It was a mistake, it was shattering multiple promises under his feet, and it was wrong, but Scott’s hot, open mouth was moving against his, and he could already feel himself turning hard as he ran his hand down Scott’s back, to hold at his waist. Scott shook like a current was going through him, but he could recognize it as arousal, not fear.

~

                Fuck, Young’s hand was at his waist, at his belt, and Young was kissing him, slow but rough, taking. He was hard as a rock, hadn’t felt like this since his first time, if he had ever felt like this. He balled his hands into fists, trying not to grab at the colonel.

                “Have you ever done this with a man before?” Young asked, matter-of-fact but with a ragged edge that Matt loved.

                “No, just—hands.”

                “We can start with that, then,” Young said, and ran his hand down Matt’s thigh, then up the inside. His head spun. He nodded.

~

                Scott was breathless, eyes black and hot as Young touched him. He felt a surge of unavoidable pride over his reaction, over the obvious erection in his uniform pants. Scott licked his lips, glanced down at Young’s crotch and didn’t look away.

                “Can I--?” he faltered. “Can I suck you?”

                He asked like it was a privilege, and Young smiled at him, surprised.

                “Yeah, Matthew,” he said, voice a touch too low with anticipation.

                He sat down and undid his belt, took his cock out, and watched Scott kneel, hands clutching at his legs. Young drew an unsteady breath.

~

                The colonel’s cock was thick, jutting up between his heavy legs, and Matt bent his head down to take it in his mouth. It tasted like soap, sweat, and Young, overpoweringly, and he moaned around it, let Young’s careful hands guide him up and down, till Young’s thighs were trembling underneath his hands.

                “That’s good,” the colonel said, and swept his hand gently over Matt’s head, rested it on the back of his neck. It felt like a blessing, one he’d never had before, no matter that it was wrong to do this, to suck Young’s cock and love it.

~

                He accidentally came in Scott’s mouth, letting him swallow with a twinge of guilt. After a minute of catching his breath, Young put himself away, took a bottle of lube from a drawer, and guided Scott to lie back on the bed, opening his pants.

                “Here, relax.” Young covered his palm in lube, wrapped his hand around Scott’s cock, and stroked slowly, watching his eyes and breathing and listening to him groan through clenched teeth. He added a touch of nail, squeezed a little harder, and Scott came, arching up and spurting. Young bent his head down and kissed him.

~            

                It became, not routine, but frequent, for Matt to end up in Young’s quarters in the evenings. The colonel would get him off, usually with his careful, deliberate hands or sometimes with his mouth. Matt always felt weird about that, even though he loved sucking Young off himself.

                Before this, Matt had never been fucked by a man, but he loved the feeling of Young sinking into him, the force of his cock pushing inside. Having Young’s bulk moving over him, weight pushing him into the mattress but arms strong on either side, was the best sex he’d ever had.

~

                Sex with Scott was a mixture of exhilarating and comforting. The sounds that escaped through his clenched teeth, the gasped out “sir” that came when he couldn’t remember anything else (and made Young wince sometimes), the quick pliancy of his body: they gave Young a kick like he couldn’t believe. He was warm and always willing and strong under his hands. Young was having fewer nightmares, now, too, and psychiatrists had never helped with that. He wasn’t sure why Scott was so eager for him, so really, genuinely welcoming, but he needed him too much to question it, or him.

~

                Young liked to take him from behind, but he liked to kiss too, so Matt had a mess of suck marks on the backs of his shoulders, to complement the soreness in his ass and thighs. The colonel meant to be gentle, but he was strong as hell, and Matt liked the burn when he slid in too soon, the slight pain of stretching.

                He had never thought much about what he liked about men versus women, but God he loved Young’s cock, loved when Young drew a hand down his face before they kissed. He might love Young, too.

~

                It couldn’t last forever. He told Scott he couldn’t anymore, avoiding his hurt look, and confessed.

                “You’re _gay?”_ Emily’s voice was sharp and pained and her green eyes too bright and angry to look at for long. He sucked in a breath.

                “No, Em, it’s not like that, it—it was a mistake.”

                “No shit it was a mistake!” Her voice cracked and cut at him, and he had to steady himself. God, he just needed her back, needed to remember that they loved each other and everything would be fine.

                “Emily, I just want another chance. I love you.”

~

                Command was _not_ Matt’s thing. Not on an abandoned ship, not with the colonel seizing on the floor and people screaming. Not with people he didn’t know telling him what to do, with Greer losing his fucking mind and no connection to Earth.

                He wrested a free moment out of people’s panic and found TJ, sitting with Young.

                “Is he--?” He didn’t know what to say. TJ gave him a look that said she maybe guessed.

                “I can’t do anything here. He should be fine, once the swelling goes down.” Young looked terrible. Matt turned away, unable to look.

~

                He had missed times like this. Maybe they hadn’t been so flooded with black fatigue but the perfect clarity of knowing what he had to do was a relief.

                “Help me stand. This isn’t something I can ask people to volunteer for.”

                “Sir, what?” Scott looked horrified, betrayed, but Young, in this moment, didn’t have time for that, or for TJ’s angry shock. He tried to sit up, but his legs were still useless.

                His radio crackled.

                “Armstrong has a gun and just got in the shuttle!”

                Scott and TJ took off and he couldn’t follow.

                Another day of time.

~

 

                Father George was walking ahead of him: no, Colonel Young was sitting next to him, in the pew. His mouth was paper dry with lust. He shouldn’t be thinking about that, not in church.

                The sand felt heavy and loose under his knees, and the sun kept going suddenly dim. His whole body was so, so hot.

                Young was still walking ahead of him, and he was trying so hard to follow, even though his hands and head were burning and stinging. He could do this.

                Water gushed around his mouth and nose; Young dissolved into a cloud of dust.

 

~

                God, not this. Not this, he couldn’t take it. Scott’s line was jerky, then slack, around his waist and in his hands.

                “Yeah, sir, I’m wedged in pretty good. I’m going to try to move some.”

                “You do that, Lieutenant.” He hauled on the line, to no avail. His second, his sometime lover: he forcibly tried to separate Scott’s roles, and couldn’t. They never had been separate, not really. And he had failed to protect his people, again. On an uninhabited planet, no military threat.

                “Scott, respond!”

                “I’m feeling light-headed. I can hear an oxygen leak.”

                “Just hang on, lieutenant.”

~

                He told Chloe about being with Young when he told her about his son. Her face, shadowed blue in the light of the observation deck, looked troubled.

                “He shouldn’t have done that, Matt.” He looked down at his hands.

                “I shouldn’t have either.” She covered his hand with hers, restive. “But I wasn’t with Young because—I think I did love him, a little.” Chloe just nodded, face still, eyes wide. “Is it the gay thing? Because—“ She shook her head.

                “No. I just want you to be safe, and happy,” she whispered.

                “You make me feel both, Chloe.”

~

                Scott was doing better; he had Chloe. Part of Young was angry, at either or both of them, but he knew better than to listen to that voice. They were good kids. Right for each other.

                He was not doing better. He was trying to make things up with Emily, but he kept digging himself into deeper holes. Accusing Telford. Making the mistake of talking to Emily, kissing her using his goddamn body.

                He didn’t deserve her back, but he had nothing else to work towards.

                The only other choice was to abandon hope of going home and leaving Destiny.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully the drabble structure wasn't too choppy. I can always use more words, though, so it's a fun exercise.
> 
> Title lifted from Patrick Wolf's "Blackdown." The full line is "Desire, you are not the wrecker nor the ruler of me." It's a very good song.


End file.
